


Till Human Voices Wake Us

by Bloody_inspired_by_newtmas



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drarry, Gen, M/M, Magic, Mates, Severitus, Sevitus, Veela, bond, soulmate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2018-11-13 02:14:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11174889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloody_inspired_by_newtmas/pseuds/Bloody_inspired_by_newtmas
Summary: Coming from the lower class, Draco Malfoy did not expect to sprout wings on his seventeenth birthday. He did not expect to jump from the lowest class to the highest class of people. He certainly did not expect to be the mate of the most powerful man in Europe.





	1. Malfoy Manor

**Author's Note:**

> For your sake, the social hierarchy is:  
> 1\. Susurro  
> 2\. Summi Magus  
> 3\. Sorcerer  
> 4\. Spell-caster  
> 5\. Ordinetur  
> 6\. Comite
> 
> Magicis Creatura are very esteemed. "Summi" means "supreme." A Susurro can command/talk to magical creatures. Wands do not exist and magic is very, very different in this AU. Hogwarts does not exist. Every Susurro has a mate. "Supra" are the top 3 classes and "Infra" are the bottom 3 classes. Infra are expected to be subservient to Supra. I'll answer questions about this universe if you have them. 
> 
> The tile comes from the “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” by T.S. Eliot.

Draco Malfoy did not know what exactly he expected in the new estate. He had grown up in an average hovel in the woods, laboring with no small amount of struggles to support his small family. Every day, he woke up to the sound of bluejays, smiled at the sun poking through his shades, and set off to feed the peacocks. Every day, he worked to chop down offending trees for firewood, to weed the garden to procure better fruit, and to farm the field. Every day, he remained obediently impressed by his father’s spell-casting in regards to simple tasks—which were, of course, easier to accomplish manually than by magic. Still, every day, he smiled dazedly at his father and complimented his skills. He knew that Lucius Malfoy was a proud man, and he would never intentionally wound the man’s ego by a lack of proper respect. Merlin knew they received enough of it from the Supra in the Neighborhood. 

 

_The old Neighborhood,_ Draco reminded himself with a small smile. A few weeks ago, he would not have dreamed of that thought. He had had no doubt that the entire Malfoy line belonged in the Infra Neighborhood since Brutus Malfoy kissed the mate of Susurro Osbert. The Malfoys had been so shunned then that Brutus and all of his descendants had been downgraded from a Supra Neighborhood to an Infra Neighborhood. Draco had had no doubt in his mind that he, like his father and the fathers before him, would work hard for the meager living they were afforded. He had not questioned his distinct lack of magic. After all, his mother was an Ordinetur. He had simply thought—just as everyone else in his Neighborhood had—that he was just an Ordinetur, an Infra like the rest of them. He had never suspected that he would sprout wings like a bloody swan on his seventeenth birthday. He had never thought that he and his parents would be gifted an estate in a Supra Neighborhood. He had never expected that his estate, the Malfoy Manor as his father had christened it, would be located not only in a Supra Neighborhood, but in the Neighborhood of the Summi Susurro himself. He had never anticipated that the cruel, mocking Spell-Casters could be called Infra from his _old_ Neighborhood. 

 

_I will never be called Ordinetur again,_ Draco realized with a start. He felt his feathers flutter as they responded to his giddy excitement. He glanced behind himself, shifting his shoulder awkwardly to spare a look at his new wings. _Wings._ He remembered dreaming of this as a child, bragging to his mother that one day Sorcerer Seamus Finnigan would be bowing to _him_ as opposed to the other way around. He recalled splashing in the mud with Blaise—Spell-Caster Blaise Zabini, his mother would have corrected him—and having a Summi Magus mistake him for a Comite and order him to polish his boots. _“It’s Italian leather,_ ” the Summi had told him. He had had to restrain himself from spitting on that _Italian leather_ spitefully. 

 

_Never again_ , he told himself. Now, he would be respected. A Sorcerer’s lip would not curl around the words ‘Ordinetur Draco Malfoy’ anymore. Now, with his white feathers and aristocratic air, a Sorcerer would bend low before him and address him reverently as, ‘Magicis Creatura Draco Malfoy.’ Now, the only person to whom he would bow would be the Summi Susurro. And even then, he would only bow out of respect. It would not be out of necessity. 

 

_Now,_ he mentally reminded himself, _the Summi Susurro will speak to me. He will be the only one who can tell me what to do. He is the only one I am required to obey. I can order a Sorcerer to polish my Italian leather boots now._

 

Flexing his wing to rid himself of the pins and needles that came from folding them in a cramped stagecoach, Draco smirked. He turned to his mother, smirk still firmly in place, “We will not be obscure anymore, Mother,” he promised her. 

 

Turning to him with a gentle smile, Ordinetur Narcissa Malfoy replied, “No, my son, we will no longer be obscure.” 

 

Draco turned finally to the large estate—mansion—before them. He had to restrain himself from gawking in sheer shock at its size, tilting his body to view its full height and flexing his back muscles to prevent his feathers from dragging on the gravel. Of course, he had known that it would be bigger than their old home in the Infra Neighborhood. He had had no idea that it would be larger diametrically than their entire Neighborhood. The stone castle jutted out from groomed landscape of Wiltshire with a prideful glare at its arriving residents. It seemed to sense the tainted name of the Malfoy family, the inferior magic of Lucius, and the complete lack of power of Narcissa if its unwelcome glower was anything by which to judge. Nevertheless, it also seemed aware of the esteemed power of Draco, its gates sliding with practiced smoothness to permit entrance. 

 

“Supra Malfoys,” a Comite bowed low before them as he approached them at the gate. The Comite had bright red hair, as if embers had been dumped on a field of dry grass. Dressed neatly, though in distinctly low-quality clothing, the Comite appeared for all the world as a natural servant to the Supra. Draco’s heightened sense of smell caught a hint of nervousness in his scent, but otherwise, he seemed perfectly comfortable in his low rank. “My name,” he spoke respectfully, “is Comite Percival Weasley. I am the Head Comite of the newly established Malfoy Manor. May I escort your graces to the estate?” 

 

Comite Weasley bowed again, gesturing to his right where a black carriage large enough to accommodate Draco’s sizable wingspan appeared suddenly. Draco almost jumped before reminding himself that he would have to grow accustomed to casual use of powerful magic, particularly by the Comites meant to be serving him. The carriage was drawn by shining black horses, standing still enough that Draco maintained a sneaking suspicion that they required magic to activate them into movement. 

 

Draco noted with displeasure his father’s haughty distaste for the Comite as he looked down the end of his nose at the boy. “A _Weasley_ as our Comite?” Lucius drawled disdainfully. “Whatever have we done to deserve such unkindness?” Draco glanced at his father, intending to glare but reluctant to appear disunited before the head of his new staff. He hoped that the twitching of his feathers showed enough displeasure to tip off his father. 

 

Draco smiled with pointed consideration, “Yes, I believe an escort is in order. Thank you Comite Weasley.” The Comite nodded patiently, apparently accustomed to improper treatment, as he opened the door to the carriage and smoothly assisted Narcissa into the coach.

 

“No need to put your filthy fingers on me, Weasley,” Lucius ordered as he gracefully pulled himself into the carriage, his voice dripping with newly developed haughtiness. The Comite nodded and replaced his hands to his sides, bowing his head low.

 

Once the three Malfoys were seated comfortably inside the stagecoach, Comite Weasley climbed into the front of the vehicle and it lurched swiftly into movement. “Lucius, there is no need to be disrespectful toward Comite Weasley,” Draco’s mother said quietly. “You must remember that Draco’s gift does not sponge away our dishonor, nor does it grant you blank check to behave however you please.” 

 

“Nonsense, Cissy. We have new lives now. We do not _need_ to be kind to Comites. They’re Comites. We’re Supra now. And he’s a _Weasley_ ,” Lucius reminded her. The feud between the Malfoys and the Weasleys was an age-old cause of tension, stemming from when Nicholas Malfoy killed Ailwin Weasley and his wife Hilda swore revenge. Of course, that revenge never actually took place until three generations later, when Septimus Malfoy discovered an object in the Malfoy vaults seemingly possessed by the vengeful spirit of Ailwin Weasley. It was alleged in any case, but salt remained in the wound ever since. 

 

“Yes, Lucius, we are Supra now. Nonetheless, it is attitudes like yours that banished us to an Infra Neighborhood in the first place. We are only Supra now because of _Draco_ , and we are both still Infra so far as abilities go. Only Draco’s descendants will be born and natural Supra. We must not lord artificial superiority over the Infra. A Magicis Creatura does not change the fact that you are a Spell-Caster and I am an Ordinetur.”

 

“You are wrong, Narcissa. They will never come to respect us if we do not act the type to be respected,” Lucius spoke, his voice laced with oily anger for being contradicted by his wife. 

 

Draco scowled, his feathers rustling with irritation, “Mother is right. I do not want to have a disobedient staff because of their distaste for them. They have no cause to hate us. Do not give them any reason to do so. Furthermore, it is compassion, not arrogance, which demands respect.” It was a lesson his mother had taught him at a young age, before he understood the importance of social class. His father had ingrained in him the dignity of Malfoys, telling him that their Infra status mattered little compared to their worthiness. He had said that Brutus Malfoy shamed the whole family, but that they could rise above his mistake. That they _were_ above his mistake and they they deserved to be treated as such. Naturally, as a little boy who idolized his father, Draco believed him. However, in the privacy afforded by a cove in the woods, his mother gently contradicted Lucius. She told Draco that cruelty and arrogance created enemies that would never respect him. She taught him that what angered enemies more than anything was compassion towards them. And that flashing anger, she had said, leads to them making a mistake, leads to their defeat. Kindness was the kind a weapon which stabbed opponents and soothed proponents. Arrogance was the kind of weapons which angered opponents, irritated proponents, and dishonored oneself. 

 

Lucius scowled, acutely aware of his son’s newly acquired status, and said nothing. Draco hated to insult his father’s pride, which was why he had always worn the properly awed expression when the man’s eyes flashed gold and the silverware floated gracelessly onto the table. Still, Draco was now the master of the house and representative of the Malfoy family. He could not allow his father to disgrace their name any further. The Summi Susurro himself invited them into his Neighborhood. It was not his wont to offend that invitation. 

 

Draco shifted his wing to a more comfortable position as the carriage slowed to a halt directly in front of the looming estate. He heard a thump from outside the carriage, presumably Comite Weasley dismounting the stagecoach. The door swung open to reveal said Comite as he extended his hand to assist Draco’s mother down the coach’s steps. After he exited the coach, Lucius paused beside the Comite, “Thank you, Comite Weasley. You have been most…helpful.” The words ground from his father’s throat like velvet stretched tautly over gravel. The expression on his face bore a strange resemblance to Ordinetur Ernie Macmillan when he ate a lemon rhine whole. 

 

The Comite bowed respectfully, “You are most gracious, Supra Malfoy.” Draco could have smiled at the Comite’s care not to call him Spell-Caster. Clearly, the boy could pick up on his father’s sensitivities. The red-haired boy turned to Draco. “Should you like a Comite to provide you with a tour of the estate?”

 

“Yes, that would be most welcome,” Draco answered pleasantly. He decided that he could get used to being waited on hand and foot. 

 

“Very well, Magicis Creatura. I will inform Comite Hannah Abbott that she is to show you the estate. Following that, if it is pleasing to you Magister, I will, by the customs of Veneficia, assemble the staff so that you may assign them to their posts,” Comite Weasley spoke, his head still bowed.

 

“That would be suitable. Thank you, Comite Weasley.”

 

The boy bowed, snapping his fingers to transport the luggage which they had been told to leave in the Infra Neighborhood into Malfoy Manor. Comite Weasley departed upon the arrival of another Comite with blonde hair and pale skin, eyes bright with pride as she bowed low before Draco. Her gaze lingered for a moment on his snowy wings, which ruffled under her stare. 

 

“Magicis Creatura. I am Comite Hannah Abbott. I have the honor of showing you the estate.”

 

Draco sniffed, smelling lust rolling off of her in waves. He almost rolled his eyes, before he remembered his manners and smiled politely at the girl. He caught the scent of numerous layered perfumes applied to seemingly make her more appealing. He supposed many Veela took mistresses and escorts, though he himself did not intend to do so. He always believed that one’s body should be preserved for the one he loved. He was not naïve enough to think that he would wait until marriage, but he could at least court his first. 

 

“Indeed. Lead the way, Comite Abbott,” Draco spoke. His tone, he hoped, was clipped enough to put her off attempts at grabbing his attention. She bowed low to him, turning toward the estate and leading the three Malfoys into the lavish manor. 

 

———————-

 

Draco gawked at himself in the overly decorative mirror in his personal chambers, staring with slight disbelief at the… _creature_ who stared back at him. He could barely recognize himself, transformed completely by the expensive-looking attire and complementing cosmetics. His personal Comite Gregory Goyle was experienced both in physical and material care, always dressing Draco appropriately and efficiently organizing his chambers. That was a large reason why he was chosen to be his personal Comite. The other reason was that only he and Comite Weasley could resist his Lure. 

 

Draco was expected to do no work in the upkeep of the estate, relying on Comites for its furnishing and elutriation as well as its financial and business duties. Draco was required to do nothing but bide his time with his own pleasures, occasionally weighing in on important matters when necessary. He had found much time for reading new books, visiting the library in the estate often and becoming acquainted with the easy life of a Supra. Still, despite being treated like royalty by his staff, he never dreamed he would look like royalty. 

 

His outfit, simple in design, complimented his shape the way that no other clothing ever had. The shirt, spotless white and perfectly smooth, fitted to his chest with gold, polished buttons. An equally white bowtie fastened around his neck, straightened with absolute precision. His black tailcoat hung fittingly from his frame, highlighting his slim waste and moderately broad shoulders. Holes were seamed in the back of his shirt and jacket to allow for his wings to sit comfortably on his back as they now did. They gleamed with a clean sheen after he had labored tirelessly to straighten the feathers, moaning consistently at how good it felt to touch his feathers. One thing no one told him about Veela was the sensitivity of his wings. Well, and his newly developed carnivorous habits, he supposed. His black shoes were so polished that he suspected he could see his reflection in them. He specifically requested for them to be made from imported Italian leather. 

 

He was quite impressed with his appearance, but then, he supposed that was a good thing considering that night was the welcoming ball that the Neighborhood was throwing for him. According to Comite Weasley, it was traditional for Supra Neighborhoods to have an elaborate welcoming toast for any new member of the Neighborhood. However, the Summi Susurro always welcomed newcomers with a ball along with the toast. He apparently invited not only the members of the Neighborhood, but all Magicis Creatura. According to legend, all Susurro met as many Magicis Creatura as possible in an attempt to find their mate. He supposed the feast would do that. 

 

It still surprised him that the Summi Susurro had not found his mate yet. One would think that the Magicis Creatura would be falling all over themselves in hopes of being the mate to the most powerful man in Europe—possibly even the world. Then again, he supposed the Summi Susurro was a private man. Perhaps they _were_ falling all over themselves, and he would not allow them to meet him. Draco couldn’t think of why the man would not welcome any chance to look for his mate, but he knew the man must have his reasons. He was not the protector of both humans and magical creatures for nothing. Perhaps, for whatever reason, he did not _want_ a mate. 

 

Draco shook himself, allowing his thoughts of the Summi Susurro to dissipate in anticipation for the coming event. He supposed that he was excited, but nervousness eclipsed any other emotion that might accompany his attendance of the ball. He had received the invitation the day of his arrival, the letter coming directly from the Summi Susurro himself. Or, well, Draco supposed it was probably one of his Comites that actually sent it. Still, it was signed by the man. Initially, Draco thought of turning down the invitation purely on the principle of nerves. He had no idea how to act in front of a crowd of Supra who has almost all lived and thrived in this Supra Neighborhood for generations. Only six others had immigrated from other Neighborhoods, and even they had come from other Supra Neighborhoods. The Malfoys were the only family in this Neighborhood to have ever lived in Infra Neighborhoods. In fact, they were the only family in this Neighborhood to have ever had any Infra in their family line. All the other families knew how to behave, what gifts to give, what to say, and what the traditional social cues were. All the other families had attended celebrations with the Summi Susurro previously. They all knew what he was like, what he expected, how he acted, and what to say to him. The Malfoys would be out of place, unaware, and completely uncomfortable. When he had presented this idea to Comite Gregory, the boy laughed and told him that that was what a welcoming ball was intended to do. It was to teach him the customs and expectations of the Neighborhood. He was not expected to know all of that before the ball. “The Summi Susurro will teach you,” the Comite had said. It was not reassuring. 

 

“You look splendid, Magister,” Comite Gregory complimented him, bowing before him in the mirror. 

 

“That is all thanks to you, Comite Gregory. Merlin knows I would not be able to dress myself this well,” Draco smiled pleasantly. He and his personal Comite had gotten along quite well in the week since the Malfoys moved into the Supra Neighborhood. He found that the boy, the same age as himself, shared an interest in similar activities such as reading and baking. The Comite’s second language was French, and Draco found himself learning the language from the boy. Overall, his presence was much more enjoyable than the Infra Draco had known in his previous Neighborhood. Still, it was a bit disappointing to know that Comite Gregory was probably only friends with him because he had to be. After all, it was well within Draco’s right to reassign the whole Goyle family to a family in an Infra Neighborhood, where they were not allowed the same luxuries as they were in a Supra Neighborhood.

 

“I doubt that, Magister. I am sure that you could easily select an outfit as grand as this,” Comite Goyle spoke assuringly. Draco nodded absently, his wings shuffling as he mentally reviewed what he would say to the Summi Susurro when he met him. 

 

_Hi, my name is_ —- _no, you berk. You can’t just say ‘hi’ like he’s some kind of plebeian. And he already knows your name._

 

_Your Grace, it is my honor to address you as—no, what does that even mean? Draco, you idiot, he’s the Summi Susurro. You don’t address him as anything but Summi Susurro._

 

_Summi Susurro, I humble myself—_

 

Draco’s thoughts were interrupted by the voice of Comite Hannah Abbott, “Magicis Creatura Malfoy, the stagecoach is prepared. Supra Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy await you in the coach.”

 

“Thank you, Comite. And thank you, Comite Gregory. Your assistance is most appreciated.”

 

“It is my honor, Magister.” 


	2. Serpentis Armarium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations at the end.
> 
> Forgive mistakes, I am not perfect.

Draco recalled thinking that the Malfoy Manor was the largest, grandest estate he had ever seen in his life upon his first arrival. He remembered the manor’s grandiose style as intimidating and pleasing all at once, knowing that he would be the Head Supra of said estate and he was not visiting as assistant staff. However, the Malfoy Manor did not compare to the castle known as Serpentis Armarium in which the Summi Susurro and his father lived. In fact, Serpentis Armarium dwarfed Malfoy Manor both in size and in sheer exquisiteness. 

 

Serpentis Armarium did not live up to its name. It was larger and grander than anything Draco had ever seen, or even read about in fantasy and history books. White stones, clearly enchanted to sparkle with freshly coated ice, made up the entirety of the enormous estate, with terraces and towers poking up from flattened planes on the top. Ice sculptures in the shape of various serpents decorated the exterior while a pathway of ice—with surprising traction—lead to the front stairs of the castle. The Malfoy family was escorted from their stagecoach by no less than six Comite from the household, each doing everything within their power to make their guests as comfortable as possible. Draco did not miss the lustful scents each emitted, but he was impressed by their self control. He supposed that being the Comite of one of the only men still alive who could command magical creatures did have its drawbacks, namely being around Veela often enough to resist the Lure. Still, he would give his wings any day to be the Comite for not just one of the last Susurro, but the only Summi Susurro alive. 

 

Draco didn’t think it was possible to charm ice so that it would not melt, despite the warm air, but he supposed that nothing was quite impossible for the Summi Susurro, who was known to ride dragons in his free time.

 

After seeing the exterior of the castle, Draco had thought that nothing could be grander. Yet again, that proved how little he knew about Supra lifestyle. Upon entry to the castle, Draco swore that one candle within its walls would cost more than his soul. Rich colors like deep green and blood red swirled beautifully in tapestries, complementing the bright white walls in every room of the house as Comite dashed back and forth attending to various guests. Thick scarlet curtains framed the large windows, drawn to allow natural light into the entranceway. The elaborate foyer included a double staircase leading into the receiving room, where hundreds of guests mingled politely with each other, each garbed in rich cloth made from fine material. Crystal chalices and golden goblets rested comfortably in the hands of the Supra, whose superior air was palpably present in the air. Draco could not have imagined a more grandiose estate than the one he stood in, gawking like an idiot for what felt like the entire world to see. 

 

He had hoped to enter the castle undetected, sneak a peek at the Summi Susurro, and rush out before anyone could notice him. He had not expected that he would be announced by a Comite the moment he entered the castle, in a voice that was clearly enchanted to boom across the entirety of Great Britain. 

 

“Ordinetur Narcissa Malfoy, Spell-Caster Lucius Malfoy, and Magicis Creatura Draco Malfoy have arrived!” A Comite in purple robes announced, his black hair slicked back perfectly so that no strand hung loose. Draco longed to take a large bucket of freezing water and dump it on his head to mess up that perfect helmet. He could already feel his father’s indignation at being announced as a Spell-Caster in front of their entire Neighborhood. He shuffled his wings nervously, shifted from one foot to the other.  _ Well,  _ Draco thought,  _ I suppose they’d have found out sooner or later.  _

 

It seemed as though the entire Neighborhood was staring at them, standing like lost sheep in the entranceway to the castle. Lucius, acting as though he had been born and raised as a Supra, stood coolly and calmly, as if he was accustomed to bearing the weight of hundreds of stares from people far above him in standing. Draco became hyperaware of every feather on his wings, barely resisting the urge to turn around and make sure they were all straight. He could smell the lust pouring from the members of his new Neighborhood as they stared at him, although he guessed that a lot of that could also be attributed to the other Veela in the room. He had also heard a rumor from one of the Comite at Malfoy Manor that there was even a Siren in the Neighborhood, though he doubted that due to Wilshire’s lack of open water. 

 

A small group of regal-looking Supra approached the Malfoy family. Among them was a boy Draco’s age with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes wearing a black tuxedo with a blue bowtie. He smiled gently at Draco, bowing formally as he introduced himself, “Magicis Creatura Draco Malfoy. It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance. I am Sorcerer Theodore Nott. Welcome to the Neighborhood.”

 

Draco gave him a small smile, bowing politely in return even as he knew it was not required.  _ I do not  _ have  _ to bow to anyone but the Summi Susurro,  _ he thought with delight. It was one of the only things he knew about his new life as a Supra. He had no idea what the proper response to such an introduction was, but he did know that the bowing was a polite formality that he was not expected to return. Still, he hoped it would make a good impression. Trying not to flounder for lack of experience in the social niceties of Supra, he responded, “The pleasure is all mine, Sorcerer Nott.” 

 

Sorcerer Nott smiled a bit tightly, as though he knew Draco had done something wrong but did not want to mention it. Draco barely resisted the temptation to ask him what it was that he should have done, instead merely shuffling his wings in attempt to distract the teenager from his discomfort. The Sorcerer opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, the same booming voice that announced the Malfoy family sounded again, “Summi Susurro Custos Harry Potter Snape wishes to extend his formal greeting to the Supra Malfoy family!” The voice emanated from a balcony above the receiving room, where the purple-clad Comite stood with an air of importance and pride. Another Comite rushed to the Malfoy family with a platter holding 3 goblets, handing one to each of them before bowing and stalking off in another direction. 

 

The Comite on the balcony raised what looked like a cane, tapping it three times to the floor as his eyes glowed bright gold, showing his use of magic. A flash of red light exploded around the room before the Comite disappeared into thin air, replaced by a man with power so palpable and appearance so delectable that Draco almost forgot how to breathe.

 

The man’s eyes were so green that, even from the floor of the receiving room, Draco could see their bright color shining from his smooth, tanned skin. His hair, inky black and mussed to absolute perfection, complimented his eye color, giving him the appearance of a raven fresh from the sky. Around his broad shoulders draped an emerald green cloak lined on the inside with silver satin, fastened around his neck with a silver clasp bearing the Snape family crest--a shield with two snakes intertwined around a roaring lion. Beneath the cloak, he wore a deep black tunic, with elaborate gold designs twisting around the collar and a belt cinched around his slim waist. Tight leggings with black, shining boots completed the look, making him appear as a god before men. Draco swallowed, his wings fluttering with approval at the breathtaking man before him.

 

The man raised a goblet, which Draco then caught onto mean that they were to have the toast about which Comite Gregory had told him.  _ So that’s why we were given these goblets. _ Draco tore his eyes from the Summi Susurro, peering quickly inside the goblet to see blood red wine half full inside of it. The Summi Susurro’s eyes flashed gold before his voice, clearly barely above a murmur, resonated around the receiving room, “Viciniam, suscipit in lingua Vetus Religio, lingua Veneficia se. Colligitur hodie celebrare nullam novissima nostra sodales, Malfoy familia. Speramus te accipere nostra grata tibi, et nos operam, ut fiat vobis amicis in annis. Quaeso, frui cibum et potum, et ut nos in choro simul multos annos. Ut vinculum quod ligat nos tenere.*” He raised the goblet further, instigating the toast. 

 

The guests in the room followed suit, holding their goblets to the Summi Susurro before holding them to the Malfoy family, echoing simultaneously, “Ut fortuna luceat in generationem tuam.**” Draco, unsure of the proper formalities the situation called for, raised his goblet to them in return and sipped from it. He nearly dropped his goblet upon his first taste of the wine, rich and flavorful and more delicious than any food or drink he had ever consumed. The guests, unaware of his insecurity in the situation, copied him and drank, each chugging the full amount inside before Comite rushed to them to refill their goblets. 

 

Draco scanned his memory for his Veneficia lessons, attempting to remember what the words the Summi Susurro spoke meant. He knew the blessing the man had said for the toast, as well as the response. Those were common words spoken at any formal gathering from the host to the guests, wishing for them to stay together and for fortune to bless them. He caught bits and pieces of the greeting, but cursed himself for not paying better attention to his lessons in his younger years. They could have saved him the embarrassment of simply smiling and nodding at whatever the Summi Susurro said. 

 

The Summi Susurro descended down a flight of stairs after the toast, his cloak billowing elegantly behind him as he approached the Malfoy family. Draco swallowed, feeling bile rise in his throat as nervousness overcame him.  _ How does one behave around the most powerful man in Europe? _ Draco thought to himself, doubts about his own worthiness nearly overshadowing his nerves.

 

The Summi Susurro’s eyes locked on him, as if nothing else in the receiving room mattered. The guests, Draco noticed, all bowed as he passed them, never standing upright until his back was completely to them. He didn’t seem to notice, focus never leaving Draco as he continued his brisk walk.

 

_ Am I supposed to meet him halfway?  _ Draco wondered, suddenly unsure of what to do with his hands. They felt awkward at his sides, but he couldn’t clasp them behind his back because his wings were in the way. If he linked them together in the front, however, it was a sign of complete submission, which he knew he was not supposed to show to the Summi Susurro. He had heard enough in the week at Malfoy Manor to know that the Susurro was not the type to welcome subservience from Magicis Creatura. 

 

He decided to simply leave his hands at his sides, pulling his wings in tighter around himself as they attempted to protect him from his obvious nervousness. Then the Summi Susurro was in front of him, his cloak flaring around him like gentle ocean water lapping at the nearby shore. 

 

Draco nearly collapsed on his knees from the overwhelming urge to submit to such power before catching himself and bending his body into a deep bow. His wings spread slightly behind him to prevent him from toppling over as his head nearly touched his knees from how steep his bow was. He knew his parents were doing the same as he did, but he could feel the weight of the Summi Susurro’s gaze solely on him.  _ Have I done something wrong? _ He thought self-consciously. 

 

He could smell no emotions from the Summi Susurro, but then again, he figured that was part of the gift of being the bridge between humans and Magicis Creatura. Still, he had grown accustomed to that ability as a Veela, and it unnerved him that he was unable to tell what the Summi Susurro was feeling. 

 

Draco, deciding this was his cue to say something--something not stupid--opened his mouth, “Summi Susurro Custos Harry Potter Snape,” he said, his voice reverent and almost worshipping. “It is an honor to meet you.” 

 

“Rise, Magicis Creatura Draco Malfoy,” the Summi Susurro’s voice sounded regally from above him. Draco felt a tug on his magic, gentle but firm, compelling him to obey the Susurro’s every word. He could feel that the urge would not grow uncomfortable unless he tried to resist, but he had no desire to do so. Instead, he stood straight at the Summi Susurro’s command, and immediately felt a rush of pleasure like a reward for doing his duty. He smiled slightly, hoping it didn’t look like he enjoyed it as much as he did. 

 

The Summi Susurro raised his hands to his neck, a two rings flashing from his left hand and one from his right, bearing the Snape family, Potter family, and Evans family crests respectively. Draco remembered hearing the story a few years ago about the love between Lily Evans, married to James Potter, and Severus Snape. Although Lily Evans never cheated on her husband, her love for Severus Snape was so powerful that she conceived of his child without consummation. In Veneficia, Draco knew, it was only love such as that that could create a Summi Susurro. The power of a Summi Susurro was not genetic the way it was for a Susurro or a Summi Magus. Only the purest of love could create a Summi Susurro, which was why their parents were always as equally respected as the Summi Susurro himself or herself. After discovering that the child Lily had conceived was not his own, James Potter had told her that he would care for her and the child as if he had been the one she loved so much so to save her from the embarrassment of an unsuccessful marriage. He offered to name Severus Snape the child’s godfather, so that the man she truly loved could play a role in raising his child. However, shortly after the Summi Susurro’s birth, Lily fell sick with a rare condition which drained the Veneficial core of a person. It was said that she died in the arms of James Potter, who died only a short time later of a broken heart. Draco personally believed that the last part was romantic dramatizing, but no one else had offered an explanation for his death. 

 

The Summi Susurro grasped a necklace from around his neck, hidden by the voluptuous folds of his cloak and raised it over his head. Draco gasped, ice seeming to freeze in his veins at the motion of the Susurro. His stomach rolled over at least seven times as the Summi Susurro held the necklace firmly in his hands, kneeling before Draco ceremoniously and extending his arms to offer the necklace to him. The guests in the receiving room stared silently at the display, seemingly frozen in the same shock as Draco at seeing the momentous occasion. Draco could feeling his parents heavy gaze even as the held the steep bow which the Summi Susurro had never permitted them to end. 

 

Without even looking at it, Draco knew the necklace would bear the Snape family crest. All offerings from a Susurro to his mate bore the crest of his family name, and the Summi Susurro would be no different. “Magicis Creatura Draco Malfoy, I offer you my necklace and my name to bear for eternity. May fortune cherish you as I will cherish you and may posterity honor you as I will honor you. But may no other love you as I will love you.” 

 

This Draco remembered from his Veneficia lessons. This was not simply the Veneficia language with all of the rules and exceptions which Draco could never keep straight as an excitable nine-year-old. This was an offering of matehood, the highest honor a Magicis Creatura could receive and the strongest bond two beings could instigate. A Susurro bond was for life, unbreakable, and powerful as Summi Susurro Merlin’s magic itself. Mates in a Summi Susurro bond were known to do the impossible together, but neither were expected to lord it over others. To accept the necklace was to accept the bond and to begin the courtship between the two. 

 

“What?” Draco said in complete shock, his voice barely more than a squeak and his tone clearly indicating his overwhelmed state. 

 

The Summi Susurro looked up, his emerald eyes staring directly into Draco’s silver ones, “You are my mate. Should it please you, I hope that you will accept my crest.” Draco noticed how careful the Susurro was not to phrase the offer as a command, lest he be compelled to obey. A Susurro bond could not be forced, tricked, or beguiled into existence, otherwise it was impure and would never be blessed with happiness or offspring.

 

Draco opened his mouth to say something, but his throat closed. A wave of dizziness overcame him, hitting him like a swift kick in the head. The world began to turn on an axis, and Draco wondered how everyone was standing upright. His knees felt like jelly beneath him and he promptly lost consciousness, collapsing like a grass hut in a windstorm onto the polished marble floor of the castle. The last thing he remembered was the embrace of strong arms catching him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *My Neighborhood welcomes you in the language of the Old Religion, the language of sorcery itself. We gather today to celebrate the immigration of our newest members, the Malfoy family. We hope that you will accept our welcome to you, and we endeavor to become your closest friends in the coming years. Please, enjoy the food and drink, and may we dance together for many years to come. May the tie that binds us hold.
> 
> **May fortune shine on your generation.


	3. Mate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge, huge, huge thanks to @chaosandcoco for being my beta for this story. She is fantastic and has made this chapter so much better! Thanks, love.
> 
> A note on wings: I have not said how large Draco’s wings are. After doing some research, I found that, realistically, wingspan would have to be rather huge to support a human being. All the drawings you see of a flying human would be rather unrealistic, and I want this to be as accurate as possible. Thus, I settled on nine meters (roughly 30 feet for Americans like myself). I know, that’s huge, but I do want it to be as anatomically correct as possible. Also, in case any of you are wondering, more bird instincts will come into play later. He’s too young a Veela for anything truly significant to manifest.

Draco awoke to the smell of excitement, apprehension, and happiness. He could feel the presence of several people in the room, though he could not identify them from their scents. He hadn’t been around enough people for long enough as a Veela to be able to identify individual people’s personal scents. Identifying emotion was part of his Veela nature, like his wings or his talons.

 

Speaking of, he felt a twinge of pain in his back as his wings bent at an awkward angle on the surface beneath him. He could feel soft material beneath him. _Silk, perhaps?_ He thought, attempting to distinguish his location. He could feel what felt like a mattress under him, deciding he was on a bed somewhere with really soft sheets. His thoughts immediately strayed to Malfoy Manor, where he remembered feeling like a demigod every time he went to bed. The Comites spared no expense when it came to the comfort of a Magicis Creatura it seemed, though it could just be that he was accustomed to sleeping on a blanket on the floor as he had for most of his life. His wings ached just at the thought of having to do that again, which would pin them beneath him on the unforgivable floor of a cramped hovel.

 

He could feel someone stroking his arm in a soothing motion, sending tingles of goosebumps down the flesh of his arm and up his wingspan. His feathers twitched in pleasure, standing on end at the feeling of the person touching his arm. “He’s waking up,” he heard a soft, gentle voice whisper. “Relax,” the voice said again, “I’ve got you.” Draco could not place the voice anywhere in his memory, but he decided that he liked it. It sounded like the blue jays that used to wake him in the morning before he fed the peacocks. It sounded like home.

 

Draco winced, another wave of pain hitting him squarely in the back as he accidentally shifted his weight onto his wing. Instinctively, he rolled forward, freeing his pinned wings and spreading them out to the side. He heard a squeak of surprise from someone in the room, but at that moment, he only cared to ease the pain of his wings and for the person stroking him to never stop. “Open your eyes, Caro. I need to make sure you are alright.”

 

Draco wanted to turn over like a petulant child awoken for the first day of school, telling the voice that he was fine and that he just wanted to _sleep,_ but he felt compelled to obey whatever the voice told him to do. Something about its nature assured Draco that he was okay, and that the voice--or rather the person to whom the voice belonged--would not hurt him.

 

 _Caro? What does that mean?_ Draco wondered to himself, before resisting the urge to smack his younger self in the face yet again for not paying enough attention during Veneficia lessons. Following his intuition to obey whatever the voice commanded him to do, Draco slowly cracked open his eyes, squinting at the sudden bright light in his face. _Merlin, who stole the sun and put it directly in front of my face?_ Draco mentally complained, groaning aloud at the purple spots that formed in front of his eyes.

 

“Shut the curtains. The light is hurting his eyes,” a voice said, which Draco recognized as the one that whispered to him when his eyes were still closed. He turned to his right, where the owner of the voice sat at his bedside, a patient and kind look on his face.

 

 _What in Merlin’s name is Summi Susurro Harry Snape doing at my bedside?_ was Draco’s first thought. His second was: _What in Merlin’s name is_ Summi Susurro Harry Snape _doing at my bedside?!_

 

Sitting up quickly, Draco apologized in a frantic voice, “Summi Susurro Custos Harry Potter Snape, my apologies for being inattentive. I hope you can forgive me. I just didn’t...er, did not know you were here. Present. Not that I am making excuses. I don’t--do not, sorry, have any excuse. I apologise sincerely.” Despite his best attempts to hide his embarrassment and control his panicked tone, it sounded rushed and choppy to his own ears. Not only that, but he stumbled over his words so much that he wouldn’t have been surprised if the Summi Susurro threw him out of Serpentis Armarium.

 

 _Serpentis Armarium. Merlin’s beard! I’m still in his castle!_ Draco almost jumped up and fled with a flutter of apologies and frantic flaps of his wings before the Summi Susurro reached out a hand, placing it to his chest and pushing him to lie flat on the bed. “Relax, Caro. I will take care of you.”

 

“Caro?” Draco asked before his mouth could connect properly to his brain and realize that he definitely _did not_ want to ask stupid and uneducated in front of the most powerful man in Europe.

 

“Cherished,” the Susurro explained gently. “I see someone did not pay attention in Veneficia lessons.” His voice sounded amused, almost teasing in a way. It was as if he had known Draco all his life and was merely sharing friendly banter with him.

 

Draco blushed to the roots of his hair, going more scarlet than the tapestries on the walls. “My apologies again, Summi Susurro. I changed class, you understand. I had not known that I would be important. That is, um, a Supra.”

 

The Susurro smiled, white teeth peeking out from behind pink lips, “I was only teasing. Now, I do believe your family has been waiting for you to awake. Father,” the Susurro said, turning to a regal-looking man in black robes. _Summi Magus Severus Snape,_ Draco’s mind supplied, memories of his mother’s voice telling the tale of Severus Snape’s and Lily Evans’ love story to him as a child. “Would you please invite the Malfoy family back in to see him?”

 

Summi Magus Snape nodded his head, turning with a flare of his robes to the door of the room. Draco, meanwhile, could not tear his eyes from the Susurro at his bedside, holding a necklace bearing the Snape crest on the pendant. The memories came flooding back of the night before. Or perhaps the week before. Or perhaps an hour before. Draco had no idea how long he had been unconscious, but he suddenly felt like a complete berk for not accepting the necklace immediately.

 

 _“Magicis Creatura Draco Malfoy, I offer you my necklace and my name to bear for eternity. May fortune cherish you as I will cherish you and may posterity honor you as I will honor you. But may no other love you as I will love you,”_ the Summi Susurro had said to him. To _him._ To Draco Malfoy, the low-life member of an Infra Neighborhood. The assumed Ordinetur in a Neighborhood where being a Spell-Caster was considered an honor. And the only living Summi Susurro was declaring _him_ his mate.

 

 _Merlin, what toxins did I inhale yesterday?_ Draco thought to himself, disbelieving.

 

“I imagine you must have a few questions. I must apologize for how sudden my offer was, last night.” _Last night, then._ “It is just that…” he let out a breath, sounding almost nervous, “I have been waiting a long time to meet you. Father and I had given up any hope of finding you. Normally, Susurro find their mates before their tenth birthdays. I am almost seventeen and I still had not found mine. I just...I saw you and I could not wait. I do hope you will forgive me if I was too sudden, but my offer still stands. If you will allow me, I would place this necklace around your neck where it belongs.”

 

Draco suddenly felt like he would pass out again. Before he could respond, however, the door opened to reveal a harried-looking Narcissa Malfoy and a furious Lucius Malfoy. His father’s voice interrupted, “Draco, how could you postpone your acceptance to the Summi Sus--” Lucius seemed to catch sight of the Susurro with the necklace still in his hands before he could finish his rage. “My apologies, Magister. I was unaware that you were still here.”

 

The Summi Susurro curled his lip, visibly annoyed by Lucius’ interruption. “Apology accepted. Please refrain from interrupting again. Sincerest apologies, Father, that I asked you to bring them back so soon. Please, have them wait for a few moments until I receive an answer from my intended.” Summi Magus Snape nodded his head again, still saying nothing as he removed Draco’s parents from the room. “We will not be interrupted again, Caro.”

 

“I--I…” Draco took a breath, reminding himself that he was a _Malfoy_ and Malfoys did not back down from difficult situations. He might reject arrogance, but he still had dignity. “Please understand that I was not raised as a Magicis Creatura. I am rather new to this life, and I am unsure what to make of this offer. No disrespect to you, Summi Susurro Harry Potter Snape, but I do not wish to make any hasty decisions.”

 

“That is not disrespect. That is wisdom. And please, call me Harry. I am not the superior of my intended, Caro.” There was that compulsion again. It was a tickling and pushing all at once, as if nothing else mattered other than doing what that voice told him to do. It was the overwhelming power of a Summi Susurro; something that they and only they could do. Not even Sorcerers with hypnotic capabilities could accomplish such a sensation.  

 

“Yes, Harry,” Draco responded compliantly, resisting the urge to close his eyes at the shiver that the obedience sent down his spine. He felt that that was something he could get used to; that pleasure that overtook him when he followed a command. It was as if he was made to be submissive, and he found himself enjoying the sensation.

 

“Now, then, since it seems that you could use a refresher on Veneficia, we should discuss this. I want you to be my mate, but I want you to know exactly what that means for your future. I don’t want there to be any ignorance on your part of what is expected of you and what will happen should you accept. I want this to be as much of a joy for you as it is for myself. Is that alright?” The Summi Susurro asked, his eyes alight with concern. Draco swallowed, his emotions lumping together in his throat as he thought about the ramifications of being the mate of the Summi Susurro. _Nothing will ever be the same,_ Draco thought to himself. _Granted, nothing has been the same since I woke up with nine meter wings._

 

“Okay,” Draco responded quietly, yet again unaware of the etiquette that such a situation demanded. Then again, he seriously doubted that Summi Sorcerer Professor Flitwick ever reviewed ‘what to do when the most powerful man in Europe tells you you’re his mate and wants to discuss how to proceed’ in Veneficia lessons. Still, it would have been nice to have paid a bit more attention to the crucial chapters. Of course, he had always been so occupied passing stupid notes with Spell-Caster Blaise--and constantly getting caught for it--that he never really cared what a ‘Sponsi’ was or what gift to give your host depending on their age, gender, and social status. He had never thought he would need those lessons beyond knowing that, being an Infra, he should always bow to a Supra. _If only I was a Susurro. Then I could have the magic to go back in time and slap my nine-year-old self silly._

 

“Good,” the Susurro smiled, eyes gentle but intense as he stared at Draco. _His mate,_ Draco thought to himself and shivered under the intensity of his stare. “As I am sure you know, a Susurro does not choose his or her mate. The magic of the earth and the magic which initiates Secundo Conspectu choose the mate, the same way it shows Susurro parents what their child will become. My Second Name chosen by my father through Secundo Conspectu is Custos, meaning protector. I--”

 

“I apologize for my ignorance, but what exactly is Secundo Conspectu?” Draco blushed furiously, once again wishing he possessed the power to reverse time so that he could give his younger self a solid kick between the legs for the lack of attention he paid in lessons.

 

“Secundo Conspectu literally means ‘second sight’ in Veneficia. It is the natural power of the parents of a Susurro to tell, in a vague sense, what their children will be in the future. It is initiated within the first month of a Susurro’s birth, allowing time for the parent to decide on a name and providing time for the magic to settle.”

 

“So it’s clairvoyance into a child’s future?”

 

“I suppose you could say that, but it is only clairvoyance in the vaguest sense. My father did not know what I would look like or how I would act or whom my mate would be. He simply knew that I would be someone who protects others. Now, I know that you are aware that I am the last Summi Susurro alive, and as such, my name dictates that I am to protect the magic of my kind and the magic of the earth. However, it also means that I am to protect you no matter what. Even if you do not accept the mating offer, I will be obliged by my nature to guard you with my magic and my life. A mate for a Susurro is for life, and thus, no one but yourself will ever make me happy.”

 

“What exactly makes me your mate? I mean, I know what chooses it, but why me?” Draco asked, his voice barely travelling above a whisper. His wings stretched a fair amount of their own accord, lifting as he contemplated the prospect of being someone’s _only_ choice for love. He had grown up believing that he would fall in love with several people, and settle with one at some point, and then never love another. He had always known that Susurro mates were the Susurro’s only love, but he had never even dreamed of being a mate himself. That was never in his plan. He found that it didn’t necessarily upset him so much as it unsettled and confused him.

 

The Summi Susurro smiled again, stroking the pendant in his hand with care, “Compatibility, in every sense of the word. Our magical cores, our personalities, and most importantly our Anima.”

 

Draco swallowed again, wishing with all of his might that he could just remember one thing from Veneficia lessons. _Summi Sorcerer Professor Flitwick would be so disappointed in me if he saw me now._ “Pardon me for asking, but what does ‘Anima’ mean exactly?” He wanted to hide his face in the silk pillow cover and never look up at the intense green eyes of the Summi Susurro. He would never live down his shame at being the only Magicis Creatura in all of Great Britain who didn’t even know what it meant to be Veneficia. _I bet even the Comite know more about Veneficia than I do._

 

“Do not be ashamed, Caro. I _want_ you to ask questions. ‘Anima’ in Veneficia literally translates to ‘soul,’ but it is most simply described as the essence of a person. It is what makes you you. Your quirks, your thoughts, your faults, your virtues, and your emotions. Everything. An Anima is a person’s source of integrity and self-knowledge. There is a legend of a rogue Susurro who sucked the Anima from another person, who promptly became little more than an object to be used. Your Anima is your most prized possession, and it is perfectly compatible with mine. There is no one better suited for me than you.”

 

Draco found himself staggered by how much he didn’t know. _How could I not know the most important thing about myself?_ Then it hit him that he was the only one whose Anima--essence and soul--matched the Summi Susurro’s. He was the only one who could understand completely the man before him.

 

“Would you die without me?” Draco wanted to know. The questions sounded a bit narcissistic to his own ears, but he hadn’t meant it that way. He truly wanted to know if the Summi Susurro needed him as a life source--if his only options to choose his own future were matehood or murder. If that were the case, Draco’s obvious choice would be to accept the bond. He knew his father would want him to do that for material reasons; a higher status in society and an esteemed name for the Malfoy family. However, Draco wasn’t like his father. He had dreams beyond fame and fortune. He wanted to learn how to use his wings, to lay the foundations of a better life for his children, and to do what he could to help his friends from his old Neighborhood. He wanted the freedom to marry someone he loved, the freedom to grow old with someone of his choice, and freedom for that person to love him of their own volition. If his only choices were to accept the bond or risk taking a life, he would obviously choose matehood, but he hoped that those were not his only options.  

 

“Not in the way you might think of death. Physically, I would survive. Spiritually, I would be rather incapacitated. I would not be… that is, I would be alright, but I would never be complete.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“I would not know myself. I would still have my Anima, but I would not recognize it. I would be...I suppose you could say that I would be a bit like a Vestigium--a trace. I would be a remnant. I do not want to lie to you and tell you that it would not be painful, but I would survive. I do not say that to try to guilt you into doing anything you do not wish to. I would be far worse than a remnant if I induced you into matehood.” The Susurro’s voice was soft, but his words were the opposite. His words sounded harsh and cruel to Draco, knowing that he was life source of another person. He was the fulcrum upon which the lever rested, with the power to raise or to sink another person. It was a terrifying idea.

 

“So it’s a choice between accepting this or letting you remain as a...I don’t know, a fragment?” Draco asked. To him, that seemed like a fate worse than death. To be alive, living the prolonged life of a Susurro, but unable to be happy seemed like a brutal life for anyone to live. He could not possibly condemn someone to that fate.  

 

Harry sighed, seemingly struggling to find words, “I would be, I suppose you could say, a fragment. At least, in the sense that I would not be whole. However, I would be okay. I would always long for you, but I would not be listless and emotionless. I would not be unable to feel joy. I do want you to know that you have a choice. You would not be a terrible person to refuse this. This is, I know, a lot for you to absorb, and it is quite overwhelming. I know you never planned to be my mate, and you still can choose not to be. I would never force this on you.”

 

The idea of it sounded reasonable to Draco. At least, he knew that he still did have a choice to love someone truly. He still retained the choice of whom he was to marry. He was not condemned to a fate he could not escape, and he would not be a monster to refuse it. _Although, I’m not sure I want to refuse it._  

 

“What, um, does a mating require? Would I have to, like, have sex with you or something?” He knew that the mating was for life, and that it involved love, but he hoped that the Susurro was not expecting him to lose his virginity tomorrow or risk crushing the man’s Anima.

 

The Susurro smiled freely at him, obviously amused by his question. “Eventually, that is expected. Intercourse is what seals the bond. It makes you entirely mine and me entirely yours. Once it is completed, there is no way to break the bond. However, it is most certainly not immediate. It can only happen when the two participants are already in love. Otherwise, the bond is invalid. You must understand that a Susurro bond is based entirely on love. Once we bond, I could do nothing to or for you unless it was out of love for you, and the same goes for you to me. Sex in a Susurro bond is not a solely physical act, but rather a spiritual one. It is a mutual gift with the purpose of displaying love for one another. A Susurro bond is the purest relationship any two beings can share.”

 

Draco let out a breath, more than a little relieved by that idea. He had never truly contemplated what a bond meant for two mates. He had always thought of it as a thing for _other people_ , and thus hadn’t spent much time thinking about it. Now that he did, he could certainly see its appeal. He wondered what it would be like for another person to love him so fully that they would never even consider hurting him. He wondered what it would be like to love someone else the same way.

 

“So what would happen before we, um, consummated the bond?”

 

“Courtship. We get to know each other. We take each other on dates, explore each other. We fall in love.” That didn’t sound too bad. It seemed like this was a bond that would allow him time to decide if he really wanted it. It would give him the opportunity to choose love, as opposed to simply rushing into matehood without any emotion for the other man.

 

“If, during courtship, I decided I did not want this bond, could I still refuse it?”

 

“Yes, you may refuse the bond at any point until we consummate it.”

 

“And what of children? I had always expected to be the one to carry on the Malfoy line,” Draco asked. He didn’t entirely know what prompted him to ask. He figured it would be a ways away, but he had to admit he was curious. From what he _did_ remember from Veneficia lessons, all bonds--be they Susurro or otherwise--were meant to produce offspring.

 

“Like I said earlier, a Susurro bond is a bond of complete and absolute love. It would be love such as ours that would produce another Summi Susurro. Although neither of my parents were Susurro, their love had the same level of purity that ours would have. It would not take sex to produce a child for us, although that would certainly help. Summi Susurro are made and born of magic, and love is the strongest kind of magic. So long as our love is strong enough--which it would be considering the nature of our bond--we can have children.”

 

“But,” Draco felt compelled to argue with the elephant in the room, “both of us are male. Last time I checked, males could not become pregnant.”

 

This time, the Summi Susurro laughed out loud, face transformed by his own amusement. His eyes sparkled brighter than they had before and his white teeth shined fully on display, “You _really_ did not pay any attention in Veneficia lessons, did you?” Draco shrugged sheepishly, getting the distinct feeling that he was being mocked. “It’s alright. I found them boring as well. Neither of us become pregnant in a Susurro bond. Even if one of us were female, we would not carry the child physically. My mother only fell pregnant because her and my father’s bond was not Susurro, even if the strength of their love was. No, the child would be formed entirely of magic. The magic of the earth would create our child, fueled by our love.”

 

“So, what, our kid would grow out of the ground like a tree root?” Draco couldn’t help asking sarcastically. He found the idea of a child growing _outside_ the body to be entirely foreign. How could a human be born of simply magic and nothing more?

 

“No, the magic of the earth would form something of a dome above the ground. It would be...think of it like an egg made entirely of magical energy. Only you or I could touch it; it repels the touch of anyone but its creators. There is no set gestation period. The strength of the love and magic determines how long it would take for the child to mature. Some have been known to take years, while others only require a few weeks.”

 

“Okay, so we could have children.”

 

“Yes, we could have children.”

 

“And we are not forced by anything to be together. I can refuse now or anytime during the courtship. It is not just accept the bond or let you die.”

 

“That would be most cruel.”

 

“And we do not need to have sex immediately.”

 

“Merlin, no.”

 

“And this is entirely love-based. Not just lust and magic.”

 

“Well, aside from essential magical aspects such as determining the mate and creating a child. But yes, it is entirely based on love.”

 

“Then, yes.”

 

“Yes, you accept the mating bond?”

 

“Yes, I accept the mating bond,” Draco answered, his mouth quirking up at the sides. The most dazzling smile stole across the Sum--Harry’s face at his answer. His eyes shined brighter than Draco had seen them before, and he gazed upon Draco as if Harry were the solar system and Draco the sun. Harry reached out, his hand caressing the sides of Draco’s face as he seemed to absorb the acceptance. Then, as if startled by a sudden revelation, Harry’s hand jerked back and he grasped the necklace in his other hand. Raising both arms, Harry lifted the necklace over Draco’s head. The pendant glowed as it caught on his hair. It settled around his neck like it was made for him and him alone. _Then again, perhaps it was._ It seemed to grow more vibrant as it fitted into place.

 

Then the whole world exploded.


	4. Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the incredibly length of time this took me to post. I had most of it written, and then I encountered writers' block. This chapter does not have a beta, so forgive any mistakes.

_ Then the whole world exploded. _

 

Colors swarmed before Draco’s eyes like a kaleidoscope of shapes and shades. Red hues faded into bright orange as flashes of blue peaked through wisps of purple. Gold shined through shapes of black and grey as a multitude of vibrant tones blended into an atmosphere of wonder before his eyes. Warmth seeped through him, as though sunshine had burst through the dreary sky to melt the winter snow. Light burst through a cloud of color as images danced around the edges of Draco’s perception.  _ Memories _ , he thought to himself, watching as they fled just as quickly as they formed.  _ A violin playing soft melodies as graceful dancers swayed before him. A child laughing cheerfully at a puppet show. An old man begging for spare change. _

 

Draco was not sure how he knew these images were memories because they did not belong to him, but he could somehow tell. He thought it might be the sheen of the visions before him, as flashes of people he didn’t know collected in his sight. Or perhaps it was some intuition that told him deep within himself that these were past times, that new times such as these were on the horizon. 

 

**_A hazy mist surrounded a scene before him of a man with black hair and black robes smiling down at him and pointing to something in front of him. When Draco looked at what the man--a younger Severus Snape it seemed--was pointing to, he found an open book in front of him, pages yellowed with age around the corners. Draco assumed the book must be ancient, and somehow he knew that it had been past down through generations. The words on the left page were written in Veneficia while the English translations appeared on the right. Draco assumed that whomever this memory belonged to had been learning Veneficia at the time and he had the sudden urge to encourage the student to study harder than he had when he was nine._ **

 

**_Draco could hear the man speak, “That is_ ** **verteidigen** **_. Pronounce it with me. Ver-tay-dee-jen. It is the power to defend one’s mate. Should your mate be in danger, this will guide you. It will grant you abilities you had not known possible, and you will know when you must enact it. It is not to be acquired with insouciance._ **

**_“Now, as your father, I know that you will use it, and gifts like it, wisely, and I know that whomever your mate is, he will be your beloved. However, the other Supra require assurance. You have only recently assumed a number of your gifts, and they are a proud people who will desire nothing more than to scrutinize and criticize you, especially as you are the Susurro son of two lesser Supra. You must prove yourself to them as a worthy Susurro and an honorable man, just as you have proven to me that you are meritorious son. I know that you will make me proud, as you have every day since your birth.”_ **

 

**_“Even that day I lost control of my power and accidentally flew into the lake before I learned to swim?”_ **

 

**_The older man’s face softened, “Yes, Harry, even then.”_ **

 

_ So the memories belong to the Summi Susurro, then. I suppose this must be what happens when a Susurro bond is initiated. Or at least, I think the bond was initiated. Merlin, I wish I paid more attention in lessons.  _ There was a flash of light, like the sun reflected off of a mirror, before another recollection made its way into his unconscious mind. 

 

In it, a young girl--roughly seven or eight, Draco estimated--with bushy, brown hair and thick-rimmed glasses stood in front of him. Her hands rested on her hips in a way that reminded Draco of the countless times as a child that his mother used to command him to finish his chores when he petulantly refused to obey. The girl’s eyes stared knowingly at him, as if he had forgotten an article of clothing and she were waiting for him to notice. 

 

**_“Harry, you must learn to stop these things from happening. Your father will be very disappointed when he discovers this,” the girl remarked, somewhat insistently. Draco wondered what kind of seven-year-old would use that sort of language. He supposed Supra must have had better schooling than he did. Her tone sounded forceful to Draco’s ears, but Harry merely rolled his eyes at her._ **

 

**_“Best not to let him find out, then,” Harry responded pointedly._ **

 

**_“Harry, you cannot possibly be serious. I will not stand by while you perform magic that is far too complex for you and could severely injure someone and do nothing! I_ ** **must** **_tell your father. It’s dangerous!”_ **

 

**_“I know it’s dangerous, ‘Mione. What would be the point in it if it wasn’t? Relax; it’ll be fine!”_ **

 

**_“You don’t know that! What if something were to happen to you?”_ ** ****_  
  
_

**_“It won’t.”_ **

 

**_“Why are you so careless with your magic? I’m telling your father.”_ **

 

**_“Please, don’t, ‘Mione. It won’t happen again. I swear.”_ **

 

**_“That’s what you said last time.”_ **

 

**_“I know, but that was before Weasley was such a beetle-headed dewberry to you.”_ **

 

**_“Be that as it may, that is no excuse to actually_ ** **turn him into a beetle.** **_Do you even know how to reverse it?”_ **

 

**_“What skin is it off my back if he stays that way?”_ **

 

**_“Custos Harold James Potter Snape, turn him back into a human this instant or I will exaggerate the situation so heavily to your father you will not be permitted to attend another Veneficial Eques Ceremony until you have a beard down to your ankles!”_ **

 

**_“Fine! Merlin’s blessed tunic, ‘Mione, sometimes I swear you’re more my mother than Lily ever was.”_ **

 

Another flash of light before the vision melted away into whiteness.  _ Why am I seeing these things? _ He wondered if it was normal or if he were becoming senile before his time.  _ Perhaps wings make you age faster.  _

 

Draco reflected on what he had seen in the moment before another image danced before his eyes. It seemed that the Summi Susurro-- _ Harry _ , he reminded himself mentally--and that girl “‘Mione” were rather close. He wondered briefly if they were still friends. 

 

Another memory lapped at his consciousness, like an ebbing tide clinging to the shoreline. A red-haired boy with a vague resemblance to Comite Percival Weasley stood in front of him, bowing low with a smirk on his face. He seemed to be around ten years old in the face, but with his height, he looked almost fifteen.

 

**_“May I assist you with anything, your grace?” The boy said, eyes alight with amusement and voice practically dripping with friendly ridicule._ **

 

**_“Ron, I swear to Merlin’s weather-bitten ancestors, if you call me that one more time you will quickly reacquaint yourself to life as a beetle.”_ **

 

**_“Yes, your grace.”_ **

 

**_“You bloody vassal.”_ **

 

**_“I’m_ ** **your** **_vassal, your grace.”_ **

 

**_“Honestly, Ronald, I do not understand why you insist on addressing him as such,” that girl--’Mione--remarked, entering the room where Harry and ‘Ron’ stood facing each other._ **

 

**_“He was just named Uirilis in Veneficia. We’re_ ** **supposed** **_to call him that! Aren’t you usually the one blathering on about what’s ‘necessary and proper, albeit unfair’ when you’re in your Everyone-Should-Be-Equal mode?”_ **

 

**_“We are supposed to address him so in the company of others. However, when alone, he is our friend and we should treat him as such,” the girl stated as-a-matter-of-fact-ly._ **

 

**_“Contrary to popular belief, I_ ** **can** **_still hear you when you two argue about me,” Harry rolled his eyes._ **

 

**_“Sorry, Harry. We have to get all of our arguing out now. In public, he has to be perfectly respectful to us because of the unfair hierarchy in which we are expected to be quintessential civil servants.”_ **

 

**_“You’re hardly the ‘civil servant’ you think you have to be, Summi Magus Hermione Granger.”_ **

 

**_“Well, Comite Ronald Weasley, I would not expect you to understand responsibility what with the lax duties Harry assigns and your insufficient efforts to complete them.”_ **

 

**_“I hardly think--”_ **

 

**_“Would both of you quit it? My father and I are expected in the Gallery in an hour and I have to prepare to meet the new Magicis Creatura! I really do not need to hear you two blather on about how much you hate each other when it is perfectly obvious to anyone with eyes that you both are merely bitter that your statuses do not permit you to court one another.”_ **

 

**_“Sorry, Harry,” the two others replied, sounding repentant but no less angry._ **

 

Another flash. 

 

**_A boy stood in front of him. He could not see his face, but he knew that he was blonde and slim. On the boy’s back rested a pair of powerful wings, pure white and groomed to perfection. Draco could feel happiness and contentment radiating through his person, even if he could not see the boy’s face. Although he did not know he was asleep, he felt memory-Harry awake with a start, shouting excitedly for his father, “Father! Father! Dad!”_ **

 

**_The door to his chambers burst open, a worried-looking Severus Snape appearing in his line of sight. “What is wrong, Harry? Are you alright?”_ **

 

**_“He is a boy, Father! A Veela! He has white wings. I Saw him, Father. In my sleep. I_ ** **Saw** **_him! Merlin, he was beautiful.”_ **

 

**_“That is wonderful news, Harry! It cannot be long before you meet him, then. You will only See your mate in your dreams several weeks before the meeting.”_ **

 

**_“I wish he was already mine. I cannot feel him yet and it is driving me insane. What if he doesn't like me, Father? What if he thinks I am the arrogant pissant so many Comite think I am?”_ **

 

**_“_ ** **Does not,** **_not doesn’t. And I assure you, Harry, he will. He would be a fool to think so.”_ **

 

**_“Are you being honest? You are not just saying that because you are my dad and it is your job?”_ **

 

**_“If it were the practice of a father to lie to his children, I can iterate with complete confidence that I would not make an adequate sire. I am very proud of you for discovering the sex and breed of your mate, but I must insist that you sleep. We have a meeting with the Neighborhood Council tomorrow, and I expect you to appear as spritely as ever.”_ **

 

**_“When have I ever disappointed you, Father?”_ **

 

Another flash of light, but this time, it did not fade. It grew brighter and brighter until the white light completely overtook his vision and purple spots formed in his sight. He slowly became aware of senses other than the sight and sound of his mind’s eye. He felt the smooth silk of the bed sheets beneath him and the same cloud-like mattress supporting his slim body and dipping at the weight of his heavy wings. He grew dimly aware of a tingling sensation on his chest accompanied by the comforting weight of the pendant he had placed on it. Blinking his eyes open, Draco took in the room in which he once again found himself. He observed that everything appeared to be the same as it had been before the memories overtook him, and he wondered how long he had been in dreamland.  _ I really should learn how to track time,  _ Draco thought to himself wryly. Focussing his eyes, Draco noticed that Harry sat in the same place as before in front of him, an earnest glint in his eyes and a slight smile on his face as he gazed at him intently.   

 

**_“_ ** Welcome back, Caro,” Harry said, his voice gentle and soothing, like flannel sheets in the winter. Draco found himself comforted by it despite being unaware of any anxiety, and he relaxed so much so that it took him a moment to process that he should probably respond to Harry.

 

“How long was I unconscious?” Draco asked, feeling slightly sheepish that this was the second time that day he felt the need to ask that question. Fortunately, his wings did not feel cramped the way they had when he had awoken for the first time, but he could have simply been more comfortable this time as opposed to last.  

 

“You were not unconscious at all,” Harry responded, his tone saying more than his words about how Draco should have already known what had occurred. 

 

“So, then, what happened?” That was the true question to which Draco wanted the answer. His wings ruffled, expression his confusion against his will. He had no idea why he had seen the things that he had seen or why those were the specific memories he viewed. He had no clue if that was normal or abnormal or if he should be admitted to the mental ward of Saint Mungo’s Hospital for Veneficia.

 

“You do not know?” The Summi Susurro asked.

 

_ How many times must I apologize for my inattention,  _ “My sincerest apologies, but no, I do not. I’m… that is, I  _ am _ severely misinformed about Supra lifestyle and traditions.”

 

The Susurro smiled, “Do not be alarmed, Caro. Your experience was perfectly normal for a Susurro bond. It was the Initiation of Courtship.”  _ Finally, something in English.  _ “It occurs only when the Family Crest is bestowed upon the Susurro’s mate for the first time.”

 

“Why?” Draco couldn’t help but ask. He did not understand the rituals and mannerisms of Supra at all, much less the milestones in a Susurro bond. If he was honest with himself, the only things he really knew about the bond he apparently shared with Harry were what the Susurro had already told him. He figured he probably should have asked more questions before he dove in, but it had truly sounded wonderful when Harry had described it to him. When he was a child, he had always yearned to be loved fully and completely in a way he knew his father never would. He had wanted unconditional support and unconscious love. Of course, Draco knew his father did love him, but he had the distinct feeling that he loved the Malfoy name and his own pride more than he loved his son. He had loved showing off his meager power, displaying the small amount of control he held over the elements and natural order of the world more than he cherished the boy he raised. Lucius did not believe that love could be anywhere near the power he yearned for, and so he had cast it aside as something secondary. His wife and child did not compare to the splendors of golden eyes and an ancient language. 

 

Draco had always longed for the love he knew he was missing. He wanted something more than what his parents had; something more than just a kiss hello and a hot meal ready for him on the table. Narcissa was the best wife Lucius could hope for, and yet that had seemed so unsatisfying to Draco. He had always hoped for something  _ more.  _ Growing up, it had seemed far-fetched to hope for that kind of love. Infra hardly found fulfilling marriages when many were sent to work for opposing Supra families or forced to labor in Infra Neighborhoods, barely scraping by with their meager rations and substandard protection. They were serfs, told to appreciate what little they had without the opportunity to improve it. So it was that when Harry had explained his chance at a bond based purely on love, he could hardly surrender the chance and he cast his lot in with luck. He had not fully realized how much he didn’t know, how much he had to learn, but he was willing to try. In hindsight, it seemed like an impossible task.

 

Draco shuffled his wings, settling himself for the explanation he knew was in order. Now, at seventeen, he was prepared to actually absorb the information provided instead of ignoring it as something that would never apply to him as he had when he was nine.  _ Merlin, how many times am I going to want to slap my old self? _

 

Harry sighed, his eyes straying to the ceiling as he considered a proper explanation for the complex bit of magic. “I have worn the necklace you now wear since I was born. It was enchanted at my birth to grow as I did, without requiring manual adjustment, and magic was placed… inside of it--woven into it--that would never allow anyone besides myself or my mate to wear it. Everything I have ever known, seen, or felt is encased inside that pendant as a memory, magically preserved.

 

“When the necklace is placed around the neck of my mate, it unlocks certain memories per the enchantment seemingly at random. But they are not random. They are the memories I have of my family and my mate prior to our meeting. They are symbolic of the family you now enter as my mate, invoking you fully as the one with whom I intend to share the rest of my life. The memories are not required to be significant, but they must show the personalities of the family members so that you know how they are normally. More memories may appear at random, when you least expect them but most need them. My guess is that you saw my father, Ron, and Hermione?” 

 

Draco nodded, his mouth open as if to speak but unable to formulate a thought around the complex piece of magic that hung from his neck. Growing up in an Infra Neighborhood, Draco was unaccustomed to magic outside of floating spoons and instant fires. After living in the Manor, he felt slightly more comfortable around more powerful bits of Veneficia--self-washing carriages, mirrors that spoke, cleaning items that moved seemingly of their own volition. However, to think of an object that didn’t just perform a duty for a short length of time, and instead absorbed memories and emotions and recognized them as important or unimportant, was almost unimaginable. The necklace would have to be nearly sentient to understand who Harry’s family was and what their personalities were and to whom to show these people. And Draco now wore this complex magic around his neck as if it were an ordinary piece of jewelry. Insignificant. A symbol and nothing more. 

 

Draco felt his conceptions about Supra crash down onto him as he imagined a life where  _ this  _ kind of magic was simply a tradition. How could he possibly hope to belong in a world where magic was an installment, a part of life that is unable to be subtracted from daily habits? 

 

He swallowed, feeling his wings curl and hunch as if protecting him from the thought of being so different from everyone else in the Neighborhood. “Yes, I--well, I think that’s what you called them.”

 

“Bushy hair and a redhead?” Harry smiled, unaware of Draco’s inner conflict at being such a misfit in Supra society.

 

“Yes. Er, is she always so… bossy?” Draco couldn’t help but ask, attempting to seem casual despite the fact that the necklace around him seemed more magical than the bloody wings poking out of his back. 

 

“‘Mione? Yes. She’s also what she calls ‘a soldier for equality.’ I swear she’s read _Iusto Inaequalitas_ more times than any Guerriero on the continent. And she’s not even one of them.”

 

_ I might know how to respond if you spoke English for an entire sentence.  _ “Pardon my ignorance yet again, but what exactly is a Geiro?”

 

“Gwee-ree-er-o. And don’t apologize. I suppose it’d be rather difficult to keep up with politics in an Infra Neighborhood. The Guerrieri are a group of people--Infra, mostly--who fight the inequality of the social system. They think we should all be equal, and that we should remove Neighborhoods and class distinctions entirely,” Harry explained. His voice sounded indifferent, but Draco could tell there was some sort of emotion under his words. 

 

He knew he probably should refrain from talking about politics--of which he was entirely ignorant--with the Summi Susurro, but he couldn’t help but ask, “What do you think of the Guerrieri?”

 

Harry snorted, a piece of hair falling into his eyes, “I think they have no idea the can of worms they are opening.” He shrugged, “Enough about politics. Your parents are waiting outside for you to be ready to speak with them. I imagine your father is quite anxious to lecture you on the importance of this bond and how it is beneficial. Would you like to speak with them?”

 

“Yes, but I can go to them. I don’t want to take up the bed any more than necessary.”

 

“You will do no such thing. You have been through quite an ordeal. The Maleficum has not even checked you over since you have been awake. And the bed is yours,” Harry said, shaking his head vigorously, his hair moving wildly. He bore an expression of determination, jaw set and eyes hard, as if nothing Draco could say would shake him from his decision. 

 

Draco could almost hear his mother’s indignant voice as he knew she would have rolled her eyes.  _ Maleficum, indeed. Pompous Supra are the only ones who call Healers by their ancient title,  _ she would have said if she were there. Draco had personally never encountered a true Maleficum. His old Infra Neighborhood was home to one local physician--Spell-Caster Hippocrates Smethwyck--and his apprentice Ordinateur Frank Bryce. They could remedy common colds and simple ills, but anything complicated was up to the individual to find a skilled Healer elsewhere. 

 

“What do you mean  _ mine _ ?” Draco asked. That seemed a rather important thing to focus on in the sentence. After all, he was in Serpentis Armarium, which was in no way, shape, or form  _ his.  _ The Summi Susurro shook his head slightly, lips tilted up as he gazed amusedly at Draco.

 

“You have much to learn, Caro.”

 

\--------

 

Harry departed from Draco with the promise that he would return once he allowed Draco some time to  _ adjust _ , or at least that was how he put it. Draco sincerely doubted he could ever adjust to the luxuries and pleasures granted by Serpentis Armarium. He thought he would feel trapped, what with being confined to a single bed despite feeling no aftershock or pain. However, after only a few minutes, he didn’t think anyone could feel trapped in such quarters. Comites bustled around outside his door, making their way to his bedside every so often to ask if he needed anything and to provide him with updates on his parents who had, apparently, returned to Malfoy Manor. One of the Comites informed Draco that they would return after he had had his examination. His wings ruffled slightly at the idea. He had never been one for scrutiny, and that was the job of a Healer. 

 

Within the first half an hour of his bedrest, the Healer--or Maleficum as Draco supposed he was supposed to refer to them--entered the room along with the girl Draco had seen in Harry’s memories.  _ Hermione,  _ his mind supplied.  _ What is she doing here? _

 

The Maleficum wore a harried expression on her slightly wrinkled face, hair pulled tightly into her Healer’s cap and white apron pressed neatly against her red dress. She squinted her eyes at him, gold sparking in her irises before a blue glow surrounded him. Seemingly searching for something in the haze, she raised an eyebrow and pulled her shoulders back stiffly. “Magicis Creatura Draco Malfoy,” she spoke reverently, bowing respectfully before standing up straight again. “My apologies for the delay, but it seems you do not bear many records or medical history. No matter; we will simply make do without them. I am Summi Magus Maleficum Poppy Pomfrey and this is my apprentice Summi Magus Hermione Granger. We are here to examine you for neurological damage, psychological disarray, and physical illness or disability. Have you ever received a medical examination?”

 

Draco liked the way she sounded. She seemed professional, and yet motherly at the same time. It was the way his mother sounded when she worried about him. She put him at ease, and he found the tension in his wings draining away as he relaxed about the idea of an examination performed by her. He smiled slightly, “I suppose that would depend on the qualification. I used to get checkups and such from my Infra physician back in my old Neighborhood.”

 

Pomfrey raised her eyebrows, apparently slightly shocked by his answer. Draco guessed not many of her patients had received such poor medical attention. “I see. And as a Magicis Creatura? No magical examination?” 

 

“Well, the physician checked over my wings and such, but it was quite obvious what my inheritance was so he didn’t really see the need for further inspection.”

 

“He didn’t see the need? His qualifications should certainly be reviewed. Nonetheless, it is no burden for me to perform one now. It will take but a moment.” She lifted her hand, eyes flashing gold as she murmured a string of incoherent words. The same blue glow from earlier appeared around him, interrupted by spots of red in several areas around his body, especially his legs. The Healer frowned, her hand lowering as the glow faded. “Ostende mihi damnum caput,” the Healer said forcefully, gold overtaking her eyes once more. Blue danced around his head, covering his vision like a bright blanket before fading, leaving behind faint afterimages. The Healer turned to her apprentice, “Summi Magus Granger, please be a dear and fetch the Summi Susurro for me.” The bushy-haired girl nodded briefly, curtseying to Draco before turning to stride out of the room quickly. Pomfrey smiled reassuringly at Draco, “I only summoned the Summi Susurro because, as your mate, he should be notified of your health issues.”

 

“Health issues? I wasn’t aware that I had any,” Draco commented, wings ruffling in confusion. 

 

“Well, it is nothing too serious, dear. It is simply--”

 

“I came as quickly as I could. Is everything alright? What has happened?” The Summi Susurro said anxiously as he hurriedly entered the room, his eyes immediately fixed upon Draco. Draco blinked, overwhelmed by the sudden attention so intently fixed upon him, as it seemed to be every time Summi Susurro Potter was in the same room as he was.  _ You haven’t been in a room with him often enough to know that. Maybe it’s just because we just met. _

 

“My apologies, your grace. I did not intend to so alarm you with my message. I hope you shall forgive my offense, if there is any I have caused,” Pomfrey said, bowing low.

 

“Yes, yes, forgiven. Now, why did you send for me? Is there something wrong with my mate?”

 

“Well, yes, but it is nothing too serious. I have discovered severe joint damage in several joints in his legs, most notably his knees. Magicis Creatura Malfoy, have you experienced any pain in that region?”

 

Draco cast his mind back, trying to recall any notable pain in his legs, “None that seemed significant, although it wasn’t uncommon to get injured in the Infra Neighborhood,” he admitted quietly, ashamed in his seemingly barbaric upbringing compared to the elegant and educated lifestyle of the Supra. 

 

The Healer nodded, “Well, that is not unusual. Do not fret; this sort of joint damage is common and, fortunately, easily fixed. It will require one rather expensive procedure, but--”

 

“Done. Place the bill in my name.” the Summi Susurro declared, his voice leaving no room for argument.

 

Draco’s face heated with embarrassment, “Summi Susurro Potter, that is too kind of you, but I must decline. I will pay--”

 

“Nonsense, Caro. I am your mate, and therefore, it is my responsibility to protect and care for you. I will handle the cost. You simply focus on recovering.” Draco ducked his head, reluctant to admit how wonderful that sounded. 

 

_ I suppose being remarkably out of place in such an ornate life is not the absolute worst thing,  _ Draco thought to himself. 

  
  



End file.
